


Subtle Differences - Reset McCoy

by kendermaus



Series: Star Trek - Subtle Differences [2]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: First Person, Gen, Multi, memories of triad relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-07
Updated: 2013-10-07
Packaged: 2017-12-28 16:16:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/993972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kendermaus/pseuds/kendermaus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Subtle Differences" from Leonard McCoy's pov.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Subtle Differences - Reset McCoy

**Author's Note:**

> I enjoy the idea of Spock/Kirk/McCoy in ST:ToS, though I really like Spock/Uhura and Len McCoy/Jim Kirk in ST:AoS. This rose out of my love of both. And the fact that Spock Prime seems so... alone at the end of ST:AoS.

I hate these damn ceremonies. Yes, we did good. Yes, Jim and the others deserve the recognition due them. But, damnit, I'm a doctor not a show pony to be paraded out when the brass feels the need. I have a sick bay full of injured crew and a med ward full of traumatized Vulcans to attend to. They are a hell of a lot more important than some damn commendation. Too many beings have died already and I'll not have more die just because some idiotic higher-up thinks I need some public pat on the back. Put the note in my file, send the stupid thing back with Jim and let me do my job.

But, the kid asked me to come, all but dragging me out of the med ward where I'd been since we docked. After three and a half years you'd think I'd be immune to wide, hopeful blue eyes. No fool like an old fool, Len. So here I am in my Star Fleet best, standing back while I watch the youngest Captain in the fleet work his magic on the gathered brass. I'm proud of him and I've made sure he knows it.

He stops, his eyes going to some spot near the back of the hall. The smile he gives is pure mischief and I can't help but wonder just what he's up to this time. Guess I'm gonna find out, because his hand is on my shoulder and we're walking towards the corner before I even have a chance to ask what's going on. I contemplate setting my heels until he tells me what the hell he's up to, but there's no threat here, and the softly pleased smile on his face makes me *want* to see what put it there. The tall, robed figure that steps into the light isn't at all what I expected.

The Vulcan is tall and formal as he greets us. His hair is silver-gray and thick, his brown eyes lively as he studies us both. I'd guess him to be Spock's father's age, if not older. Not that I'm all that good at guessing such things, as I've found out recently. But there's something... familiar about him. He's not been in my sickbay, so he isn't one of the High Council that Spock risked his life to rescue. Nor is he one of the one's I've been introduced to in the medical facilities. I expect Jim to introduce us, instead he introduces me to the older man then rocks back on his heels with that damn Cheshire cat grin that always gets a rise out of Spock. 

I blink. Nah. It can't be. I study the older Vulcan's face, my eyes narrowing as I try to imagine him decades younger. I look at Jim, stunned. The smile tells me all I need to know. I turn back to the man before me. Once you know, the resemblance is obvious. "I'll be damned. It's an honor to meet you, Ambassador Spock."

Jim had told me about Ambassador Spock after we'd fought about how he'd gained command of the Enterprise during the Nero crisis. Okay, so the fight was mostly me yelling at him about the unnecessarily cruel way he'd broken Spock's tenuous control, but still. I'd even refused to use the dermal regen on the bruises Spock had left. Jim deserved them. 

Then he had told me. I'll never forget the look on the kid's face when he told me how hard it had been for him to do it. It was damn near as hard on Jim as it was Spock, even before Spock tried to kill him. 

_"I hate kicking a man when he's down, Bones, even one as frustrating as Spock. But he told me it was the only way."_

_"Who told you, Jim?"_

_"The other Spock."_

I'd thought the boy was crazy, but the pleading look in those blue eyes, begging me to believe him, made it clear he wasn't. He sat me down and explained about Ambassador Spock, rips in space-time and the mind meld that occurred after Commander Spock had thrown him off the ship. I listened and then held Jim while he shook in reaction to all that had happened, then and after. There are times I forget just how damn young he is. Then I'm reminded and I worry, not only about him, but about the rest of the young crew as well.

Jim's laughter makes me smile and shake my head. He slaps me on the back, leaning in close. "Wondered how long it would take you, Bones. I'm impressed."

I spear him with my most unimpressed look. "Brat."

"Yep!" he shoots back with a grin. "And a completely unrepentant one at that. But then, you knew that already," he finishes with a wink.

I can't help but chuckle, looking over at the older Spock, wondering how he's viewing the exchange. The look of... longing on his face surprises me. I watch him watch Jim and I and something 'clicks'. He knew us. He knew us very well in that other place. The ache I'd seen in so many other Vulcans is even more pronounced in this man.

Jim pats me on the back once more before saying his farewells so he can go talk to Admiral Pike. I watch as Ambassador Spock's long fingers form the now familiar salute. His voice is rough as he tells Jim to, "Live long and prosper," as if he's begging Jim to. I watch his face as Jim gives him one of his wide, open smiles. What I see damn near breaks my heart.

After Jim is gone, the sharp brown eyes lock with mine and one grayed eyebrow rises in question.

I take the proverbial bull by the horns. "We were important to you in your timeline." It's more statement than question, but I'd like to hear him say it.

"You were."

I thought so. "How important?" I ask, knowing I'm unlikely to get a straight answer from this even tighter-lipped version of our own point-eared hobgoblin.

"It is unimportant."

Nice to see he's not going to disappoint. I've spent the last several days learning the subtleties of reading beyond a Vulcan's emotionless façade. It's not that they don't feel, they just keep it bottled up. You have to learn when you need to push and when you need to let them have their space if you're going to treat them effectively. This is a time to push; I can see it in the older man's eyes. "Like hell it is," I say firmly.

The small smile that tugs at his thin lips surprises me, as does the contemplative look in his eyes. "I'll be damned," I tease gently, smiling at the older man. "You lot can smile." He nods in acknowledgement and again, I can feel him studying me closely, watching.

"We, the *other* we," I correct, trying to put my suspicions into words and failing. "God but temporal theory makes my damn head hurt," I growl out in frustration. "*Your* Jim Kirk and Leonard McCoy," I clarify, "they helped you find a measure of peace in your own stubborn skin."

The nod tells me more than an hour long speech. "Good. Good." I can almost feel the pain rolling off him. He's better than most at covering it, but after so many hours learning what to look for in order to help these stubborn, private people, I can tell. 

Something about that pain draws me closer, the need... the *desire* to do something tugging at my too soft heart. I move closer. The brown eyes close and the ache in my heart increases ten-fold. Without thinking I brush my hand against his, intending to check his pulse like I would with Jim or Scotty or any of the other members of the crew. Only this is a Vulcan, a touch telepath most likely, and that simple touch brings a flood of images and emotions I hadn't expected.

A gentle warmth, like a deep red summer sunset back home, wraps around my mind, drawing me in. I should be afraid, but instead I feel safe, cherished... loved. I relax into the feelings, opening myself to a flood of images, sensations and memories not my own.

I find myself looking into a face like mine, only... different. Blue eyes like Jim's look at me, at *Spock*, suspiciously.

_"Remember."_

A clear barrier smeared with green Vulcan blood. Pain floods my mind, not for the man dying of radiation poisoning behind the barrier, but for the two shattered souls left behind. 

_"I have been and always shall be, your friend."_

The phrase nearly tears apart my soul.

Disjointed images follow. Pain, confusion, need. Hazel eyes and strong arms protect two souls in one body, risking everything to bring them home. A long set of stairs beneath a red sky and the ripping away of a precious burden only to have it... returned. A bond re-opens. Three minds become one once more; three bodies become one flesh, until all that remains is the secure and sated whole.

*T'hyla* 

Images flicker past my mind's eye, showing me a life that was not, yet was, mine. Time jumps forward and back in a confusing array of feelings and half-remembered thoughts. Sorrows and joys shared during long years together. A golden presence fades too soon - its loss an ache that never fully heals. 

I see my counterpart's face, aged yet alert. _"Go on, ya stubborn hobgoblin. That's where you need to be."_ Two fingers reach out, meeting another's in a surprisingly intimate touch, sliding together and connecting two minds with an ease of long association. _"Don't you dare stay because of me! You know I'm on borrowed time as it is. No need to stick around for the grizzly end,"_ the aged man teases.

Sorrow floods me even as I know the truth. This McCoy is dying and it's tearing Spock apart. 

_"You have a cause, t'hyla,"_ my counterpart reasons. _"A place where they need you far more than I. I'll always be with you, you yourself told me that when you asked me to bond with you."_ A wizened hand reaches out and caresses Spock's cheek. _"Fair weather and a following sea, t'hyla. Jim and I will always be a part of you. Go with my blessing, and my love."_ The hand withdraws and the lips turn up in a teasing grin. _"Now *get*, before you make me indulge in some overly emotional display that embarrasses us both."_

The blue light fades as I stare into an unfamiliar, alien sky. Alone... 

I gasp at the pain and loneliness that radiates through this unexpected link. I reluctantly draw away as the images fade, leaving me with a faint feeling of apology and embarrassment that isn't mine. 

"Forgive me," the Ambassador whispers.

Words I've spoken and heard too often in the past few days fall from my lips. "I grieve with thee." I don't even try to hide my emotional response to what I've seen.

"They have been gone a long time," he answers pragmatically. But I've seen his pain.

"Doesn't make it hurt any less." I look up at him, meeting his eyes and hoping he can see the truth in mine. "They were very lucky men."

"It is I who was... lucky," he answers softly. I can hear the love and sorrow in his voice now that I know what to listen for. The tears threaten again and I fight them back as best I can, not wanting to embarrass him further.

"This universe is not mine," he continues hesitantly. "That which was, may not necessarily be..."

I try not to laugh. Is that what he's worried about? That I'll take what I saw as some sort of predestined end for Jim, Spock and I just because it was in his universe? Things have already changed from what he knew, some for the worse, some for the better. Nothing is set in stone. "Doesn't mean it won't be, either," I counter, finding the idea far from unappealing. Jim and I are more than halfway there already. That just leaves Spock, the younger Spock. I can't help but chuckle: there's a volatile mix if there ever was one. And that's without taking a certain communications officer into account. "Though our 'you' seems awfully smitten with Nyota," I tease, seeing a bit of my humor reflected back at me from knowing brown eyes. I wonder what she was like in his world. Were they as close in his universe as she and Spock are here? 

Somehow I doubt it, considering the strength of the bonds I felt between the three men. The thought brings a wave of concern as I think about Ambassador Sarek and how the loss of his human wife affected him. Though prepared for, since she would, logically, die first due to the variation in standard lifespans, the severed link was still difficult. Sarek compared the loss of a bond mate to the sudden loss of a limb, only more mentally unsettling. Gotta love Vulcan understatement. But if losing one bond mate is hard, what must it be like for this man who has lost two?

"Now, I know I ain't your Len, but" I resist the urge to growl as my damned accent flares making me sound more backwoods than competent doctor. "I've been working pretty closely with the refugees and those who've lost bond mates in..." I struggled to find a way to describe the horrors of the last few days. "This. If you ever need." I'm not even sure what I'm offering: support, someone to talk to, all of that and more? 

"Thank you, Doctor," comes the controlled reply. "But my loss was long ago, I have moved beyond that pain."

And I'm the queen of Setti Seven with a harem of Orion Warriors at my beck and call. "And they told us that Vulcans couldn't lie."

He's startled but covers it up quickly. "I do not understand your meaning, Doctor."

Oh, he's good. I'm impressed. If I hadn't been privy to his thoughts I might even buy it. "The hell you don't." I point back towards Jim, smiling indulgently as I watch him charm the crowd. "That young man that just left?" I begin casually. "I've spent damn near every waking moment, and some not so awake moments, the last three and a half years keeping track of that trouble maker," I grumble good-naturedly, thinking of all the times he's woken me from a sound sleep to talk... or other things. “Not that I'd change a second of it, but that's not the point. If I can't see through an obfuscation by now, no matter how skillfully delivered," and Ambassador Spock could give Jim a run for his money on obfuscation I'm sure, "then I should pack up my shingle and head for the nearest farming colony -because I'm not gonna be worth a tinker's damn on-board a starship dealing with a young, gung-ho command crew, let alone the two most infuriating and reckless officers in this person's Fleet." Again, not that I'm complaining, I'd rather have those two stubborn idiots where I can keep an eye on them. Those two are going to be a handful now that they've joined forces. God help the Universe. 

"I grieve for what was,"

I watch his expressive eyes as he answers.

"But that grief," he continues, "does not change the facts. They were gone long before Nero's actions and my own arrogance brought me here." 

The self-recrimination is evident even as he tries to hide it. "Wasn't arrogance," I answer; I won't let him go on blaming himself any more than my counterpart would have. "Just bad timing. You did what you could for those people, Ambassador, but even you, for all your Vulcan pig-headedness, can't control everything in the universe." I can feel him gearing up and I shake a forestalling finger in his face. "And stop trying to change the subject, 'cause it ain't gonna work," I growl. "You're hurting as much as our Spock if not more. *Our* Spock at least has his father to lean on." I wonder at the relieved breath he exhales at the comment. I continue on as gently but as firmly as I can, "You've lost not only a planet, but an entire life, while being thrown willy-nilly into a universe that's almost but not quite yours."

Is that why a simple touch connected us? From what I've seen, that's something that only happens between bonded mates. Bond mates know one another's minds so intimately that the "directed path" provided by a formal meld isn't needed. But we've not... I reach out to touch him, to see if it happens again, but stop myself before I invade his privacy again simply to satisfy my curiosity. "That would be enough to set anyone on edge," I whisper, as my mind struggles with the unexpected possibilities.

"I have a duty."

Okay, enough is enough. Stubborn, pig-headed... privacy be damned. He needs to know he's not alone. I close the small distance between us and feel our minds slide together once more. He struggles to control the grief and pain, but it's there. I offer him my support and my unconditional acceptance, emotions and all. 

"You have a right to mourn," I snap, my own emotions tumultuous. "You have the right to look for someone to fill the hole tearing apart your soul." My own heart aches with the familiar pain. "No shame in not wanting to be alone."

His response is gentle. "No, there is not." 

I get the feeling those impressions don't run strictly one way. Damn it. I try and regain my own composure, studying his impassive face; blank and serene while I know his mind is less than calm. "Remind me to never play poker with you, Ambassador," I tease. It earns me another of those unexpected half-smiles. I could get used to seeing that.

"I shall endeavor to content myself with chess games then, doctor."

Chess? I don't even play chess. My confusion must have shown because suddenly he's embarrassed, the emotion coloring the feelings flowing between us. I understand. Chess was something between the others and him, a shared pastime they all enjoyed. I suddenly wish I actually played. 

"Forgive me, Doctor McCoy," he says as he pulls his hand away and the connection between us fades. I find I miss it already.

"Nothing to forgive, sir," I reassure. "Seems I should be apologizing to you," I admit reluctantly. "I know such connections are a highly private thing and I've overstepped that boundary in my desire to help." I swallow and then continue. "I didn't mean to intrude on such... intimate memories." I can't take back the intrusion, but I can work to lessen the damage done.

His cheeks flush green. A Vulcan who blushes, who knew? It's oddly endearing and I head off the apology as I come to a decision. This man needs a friend and I'll be damned if I don't want to apply for the posting. "Look," I begin, my accent so thick I hope he can understand me. Normally it doesn't get this bad unless I'm sauced or exhausted. Guess I'll have to add, extremely nervous to that list. "I know I ain't your Leonard, any more than my Jim is your Jim Kirk." I try not to think about how odd that sentence sounds even in my own head. "But," I continue with a smile, "if you ever find yourself missing a Georgian accent or start feeling masochistic enough to try and teach an old country doc a thing or two about 3D Chess." I look in his eyes, letting him see the truth in my eyes. "I'd be honored to hear from ya." There, it's out there on the table, now it's up to him.

"You need not..." 

It takes everything I have not to reach out and smack him, hoping to I rattle his brains loose. Maybe then he'd listen. "I know I don't, ya damned point-eared hobgoblin!" I snap. I take a deep breath, not liking how the conversation is going. I scrub my hand over my face. 

"Look, we're headed out into the blackness of space in a new ship, with a crew heavy on cadets and short on experience, not" I hurry on, not wanting to minimize the bravery and skill the young crew had shown already, "that they haven't proven themselves in combat, mind you, but... well." 

I pause, hoping he understands that what I'm about it say isn't a condemnation of the crew, but an expression of my own concerns. "Honestly, it scares the hell out of me." And it does, not because they're so young, but because I'm afraid of being too old and too slow to help them when it really matters. I find myself confiding, "But I can't let it show, because too many people are relying on me to keep my cool when it matters. Jim's damn young and cocky. Spock's struggling to prove... _*Something*_. Scotty's spent too much time alone on that base they exiled him too. And Chekov is ***SEVENTEEN***!" 

I can't help the bitter laugh that escapes. That's it, Len. Have a nervous breakdown in front of half the damn Fleet brass, that'll go over well. I wonder why I'm telling him this; he has enough burdens without my adding to them. "And I'm worried about screwing this up. Knowing there's someone out there who's not... relying on me." I shrug, feeling bad for saying even that much.

I look away, my eyes seeking out the handsome figure of my young lover and Captain. "Jim and I, I don't know what the hell we are beyond a young man with daddy issues and a damned fool who should know better." I know, in my head that what I share with Jim isn't like that, but sometimes, my damned heart can't help but wonder what happens when he comes to his senses. It's gonna hurt like hell, is what's going to happen. 

I know Jim would be devastated to learn how uncertain I am of our relationship. The kid's the best thing to happen to me right after my daughter coming into the world. I trust Jim, and I'm honored that he trusts me. But there are times when I worry about pushing him away like I did my ex-wife; letting my fear ruin something wonderful. Maybe having someone to turn to could help keep that from happening. A voice of reason for the Enterprise's voice of reason. Do I even have the right to ask that of this man who's gonna be up to his pointed-ears in rebuilding his race?

I take a deep breath and forge on. "And while I'm not saying this... whatever will become anything beyond an odd friendship," I confide honestly. "It'd be nice to know there's somewhere I can just be... Len, and have that be enough." A place where I'm not the doctor, the devil's advocate, or the voice of maturity. A place where I can be an insecure, crotchety, ill-tempered jackass that means well and needs his own kick in the pants at times. The worst he can do is say no, right? And maybe, just maybe, I can help him find a measure of peace as well.

My cheeks are hot as he studies me. I never intended to reveal this much to anyone, let alone a total stranger. Well, a total stranger to *this* me, anyway. It takes everything I have not to give my excuses and run like hell back to the med ward where I know what I'm doing.

_"Even a stalwart Captain needs a home port to return to... You don't have to be alone."_ My counterpart's voice echoes in my head. I'm not sure if it's a memory or a remnant of the unexpected bond that brings the flash of conversation to my mind. Honestly, I'm not sure it matters either way. An offer made to another Jim in another universe, offering him a place to come to when it all gets to be too much; a place that grew into something so much more, for all three men involved. What must it have been like? 

"I would be honored to be such a place for you."

It takes a moment for my brain to catch up with what he says. He'd be... honored? I nod my thanks, stunned actually, that he agreed, but he's not done. His brown eyes are practically dancing with mirth as he continues, though his face is the perfect picture of Vulcan calm. "And perhaps I could provide the occasional insight into how to deal with the 'two most infuriating and reckless officers in this person's Fleet'," he teases.

I can't help it. I laugh. Not the 'acceptable in high brow social situations' laugh, but a full on, from the gut laugh. Jim'll be back soon, wanting to see what's so all fired funny and I have no idea what I'll say. But that's okay. I nod, acknowledging the playful words. I don't know what the future holds for *this* Enterprise Crew, but I think a certain former Enterprise first officer, is going to play a very significant role in it. And I can't wait.

~ ~ ~ end ~ ~ ~


End file.
